Common ground
by ligurl
Summary: Something terrible happens to the Malfoys, leaving Draco orphaned and in a most horrific state... Will Harry be able to lift the pain in Draco's broken heart? Warning: HarryxDraco in the near future
1. prologue savior

Prologue – Savior

"Lucius…"

"No… Master, please… have mercy…"

"My patience has run out," the man said dryly, or at least what seemed to look like a man. He tapped his wand upon his palm, then looked up. "You are of no use to me."

"NO! My lord, please…" a woman with sleek blond hair screamed from the other end of the room, tied to a sturdy tombstone. "Please, lord… Don't take my husband…"

The blinding green light they knew all too well flashed through the room. Lucius stiffened and fell upon the ground, not even with the slightest gasp. It was painless, yet too much a shock for the woman to understand.

"LUCIUS!" She struggled to free herself, weeping in agony.

"Next, it's you."

The woman stared up at him coldly, her eyes glimmering.

"Then take my life. Just don't harm my son."

"And what makes you think I won't, after you're dead and gone?" Another flash of light marked the end of a mother's woe. Narcissa died with her eyes open in distress.

"Now, the boy. Oh, I enjoy this." The man walked up to the pale-faced teenager, rubbing his wand teasingly. "How shall I torture you today?"

Draco Malfoy just sat there, his mouth gaping. He was at his end now, and dead was probably the most appropriate word to define it. Unknowingly, tears streamed down his porcelain cheeks as he stared at the beast, the killer, the murderer…

"Why, such a beautiful boy you are. Almost reminds me of myself." Voldemort laughed in amusement, placing a finger upon Draco's fine skin, making Draco shrink back, aghast. "I have something fitting for you. _Tunighdo._"

Draco sat there, anticipating death. He'd always wondered what it'd feel like, and now he'd get his hands-on experience. He felt a burning sensation from inside his core, although it seemed a lot lower down. Whatever it was, it could not possibly have hurt any more than that. Draco felt faint, like his world was turning into a blur.

"Now, let me remind you of how I used to be when a boy…" Draco heard an evil laugh, followed by an incantation he recognized as the enlarging charm. Then, as if a spear had pierced into him, he felt as if his insides were ripped apart. Voldemort pushed him onto his knees, driving the pain deeper and deeper inside him. Draco cried out, his temples pulsating at their limits.

"That's right, scream," Voldermort spoke so coldly for one doing what he was doing. "The worst is yet to come."

"Not if I can help it!" A skinny, dark haired boy pointed his wand at the evil wizard, uttering the words he wished he would only speak once, _avada kedavra_. The wizard writhed and struggled, like an electric shock protruding his body. Draco, whom he was connected to at that time, felt a rush of pain up his entire body. He could feel himself slipping away…

Then, the Dark Lord vanished into an abyss of darkness. Harry Potter was not sure if he had gone for sure. He trembled at the thought of his using the spell – after all, it was forbidden. After a moment of thought, he noticed the blond-haired boy, lying on the floor lifeless.

"Oh… Shit… Malfoy, I didn't know…" Harry ran up to Draco, panicking as he felt the pale, cold body. "I didn't kill you, right? Oh God… I didn't kill you… I didn't…"

Harry's fingers trembled, making him drop his wand upon Draco's chest. The boy stirred, muttering something feverishly. Relieved, Harry propped Draco's head upon his lap and looked around the dark graveyard. He noticed two bodies lying on the ground – Draco's parents. Shocked, Harry knew he had to get out of there fast.

"Here we go, back to where I came from." Harry held Draco's hand, then touched a brick – the portkey he had used to get there. They seemed to fly through space and time, until they arrived at the little remote corner of Knockturn Alley. Draco fell onto him as they landed, groaning painfully.

"Malfoy, are you alright?"

"Hurts…" That was all he managed to say, before falling unconscious again. Harry noticed how thin and weak Draco looked, realizing Draco could be closer to death then he had imagined.

He was frantic – there was a boy here dying, and he needed help. Even if it was Draco. He realized how far away he was from all who could actually help him. He needed to get Draco somewhere safe…

"Excuse me! Sir! I need your help!" Harry ran into the closest building he could find, a little inn along Knockturn Alley.

"Bloody boy," the man at the desk retorted. "Get the hell out!"

"Please, I need your help! There's a boy outside who needs medical attention!"

"What do I look like, a nurse?"

"I can give you 50 galleons."

The hostility in the air suddenly dissipated.

"You could have a room for the night. That's the most."

"I'll take it." Harry sighed, taking the key and parting with his money. He dragged Draco in, holding him up at the shoulders. The man ignored them completely, as if it were a normality to bring in lifeless bodies every day.

He trudged up the stairs, taking breaks to catch his breath. He forced the rusted key into the door, then set Draco down upon the bed. Draco stirred, moaning and whimpering once in a while.

"Where does it hurt, Malfoy? I'm sorry. Was it because of my spell?"

Draco grunted deliriously, rolling around the bed in agony.

"_Numondinous._" Draco stopped rolling so much, feeling numb all over. However, tears still streaked down his face. He opened his eyes, and upon seeing Harry he closed them, trying to push himself away.

"I'm here to help you, Malfoy. Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," he moaned.

"Where does it hurt the most?"

To this, Draco was silent. His eyes looked at Harry pleadingly, as if he were reluctant to tell Harry. But then, another shot of pain kicked in, making Draco yelp. He had to have someone stop the pain.

"It hurts down here." Draco pointed to his posterior of his pants, which, to Harry's shock, had a gaping hole with a bloodstain. Harry regained his composure quickly, once he realized the severity of the situation

"Malfoy, you're bleeding!" Harry rushed to the attached bathroom to get toilet paper and some water. "I'll help you clean it up."

"No!" Draco managed to whine, but Harry ignored him. He knew that Malfoy had to be tended to somehow. Since they were in an unknown place with little help, Harry knew he had to rely on Muggle methods.

"This'll sting just a little."

"No… don't."

"Malfoy, I have to stop the bleeding."

Draco turned his head to stare at the blood spot, which was already increasing in size. He was in too much pain to have a choice.

Harry dabbed his wound with damp toilet paper. Draco hissed at the stinging sensation, but then again he had to admit it was feeling a little less painful. He lay on his chest, staring at the wall. He was trying hard not to remember.

"Malfoy, I'll need to put a bit of antiseptic."

"Antiseptic?"

"It heals wounds." He pulled out a tiny bottle from his pocket. "I keep it around. It comes in handy when Dudley beats me up."

Harry unzipped Draco's pants while Draco was filled with unease. He grimaced for a while at the sight of Draco's anal opening – it was cracked and bleeding, as if it had been penetrated with a large object. Then, he dripped a bit of antiseptic onto the toilet paper and dabbed the wound gently.

Draco cried out as it stung him. It felt like poison, and he was almost certain that Harry was trying to kill him. He pounded his fists upon the bed, but then he realized the pain was subsiding.

"There, it's a bit better. I still have to get you somewhere safe."

"Potter?"

"Yes?"

"Oh." Draco couldn't seem to register the fact that his arch-enemy was nursing him. But after all, events had taken such a drastic turn that Draco realized he probably wasn't dreaming. Then, the images began to flash before him.

His father, falling upon the ground, lifeless. His mother, gaping at Voldemort as he killed her. Voldemort hurting him… hurting him so much…

"You alright? You're crying."

Draco stared up at Harry. True enough, his cheeks were moist. He felt broken, so broken. His whole body shivered in the deep chagrin he felt.

"You saw everything happen, did you?" Harry's eyes met Draco's – they were sympathetic and apologetic. Their gazes locked for a while, then Draco looked away silently. Another tear graced his soft skin.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Harry changed the topic abruptly, putting away his bottle of antiseptic. Draco remained silent, crying for his losses.

Harry shrugged, deciding that Draco was best left alone. He moved to the table to scribble a note. He wrote to Ron and Hermione, telling them where he was and whether they could help him. His letter would be posted off today, and hopefully they could get here by tomorrow. He wondered what he'd feed Draco for dinner, for it looked as if the poor boy was in need of nourishment and good rest.

Harry stared at the boy with much pity. Even when he lost his own parents, he didn't witness it firsthand. He realized that now they had even more in common than he'd have expected. As Draco drifted off to sleep, Harry stared at him with newfound compassion.


	2. chapter 1 soliloquy

Chapter 1 – Soliloquy

He watched the evil, cruel creature towering before him. It was too quiet for his liking– like he was watching a silent movie. But, no – he was starring in it. The creature approached him, tapping his staff of ultimate power upon his palm. Draco could feel the evil aura surrounding him, engulfing him in darkness and fear.

And then the pain. He remembered the pain, like a knife protruding his weak body. He remembered the torturous agony, the anguish of his helplessness…

He cried.

"Malfoy, you alright?" Harry walked through the door, his eyes transfixed on Draco's shivering state. "Are you cold?"

Draco whimpered, lying on his chest to ease the pain. His fingers were digging into the pillow, and there was cold sweat all over him. He looked up at Harry, his grey eyes still tear-filled.

Harry sat beside him and touched his neck.

"You're feverish, Malfoy."

"Ah… yeah." Draco stuttered, realizing how poorly he felt.

"I'll wipe you down." Harry got up and went into the bathroom in search of a towel. He decided the only one there didn't look clean enough, so he took off his outer shirt and then - his singlet. It was perfect – hardly sweaty or blood-stained, like his other clothes. He wet it thoroughly, then went over to Draco.

He lifted Draco's shirt, then wiped lightly upon Draco's back and up to his neck. Draco looked away, slightly embarrassed but secretly grateful. Harry then turned him over carefully and wiped his chest and forehead. He could not get over the deep sorrow painted over Draco's face.

"Potter?" Draco said suddenly, startling Harry.

"Yes?"

"Why are you being kind to me?"

"Why else?" Harry placed the wetted garment upon Draco's forehead. "Because you need help."

"I'm your enemy."

To this, Harry smiled.

"In this day of war and peril, little things like that don't matter much anymore. After all, if we're to deem everyone our enemy, what little friends would we have?"

Draco stared wondrously at how the mind of this boy worked. As much as he hated him, Harry was an amazing person all the same. To have to hunt every day, or be hunted. To have to regain his composure after a loss, to have to bear with his situation with perpetual determination and selflessness. To be strong, yet gentle when he had to be. Another tear rolled down Draco's cheek.

"I just sent a letter to Ron and Hermione," Harry said matter-of-factly. "They should be coming to get us tomorrow. I'll go down and get some food for us with the money I have left. What would you like to eat?"

"Not hungry."

"Malfoy, you look like you haven't eaten in days."

"I can't."

Harry sighed. Draco was probably feeling too sick to eat anyway. He wondered if he could get any chocolate, or perhaps a bit of warming Butterbeer. After a quick glimpse of Draco, he walked out and down the hallway.

Draco listened on as he left, dreading the silence that would fill his next few minutes. He heard the footsteps grow fainter and fainter, then disappearing in reality but repeating in his head. The footsteps were rhythmic, like a heartbeat. Draco thought about them for a while, not knowing why they seemed so disturbing yet so comforting at the same time.

Perhaps, he thought, it reminded him that he wasn't alone. After all, with his parents gone…

Suddenly Draco realized how pathetic he must be. Whimpering, crying… and being helped by Harry Potter? He thought of what his father would think. But then again, where did that noble attitude his father possessed, get him?

Draco felt his head spinning in confusion. He tried to sit up, but the pain that burned his lower abdomen forced him back down. It was the end – he couldn't live like this! Noticing the veins protruding his wrists, he pulled his right hand to his left. Then, with his sharp nails, he scratched. It would be a long process, but it might work.

It hurt, but then again he thought it was best to let it hurt until the pain faded away. His heart was a void of emptiness – he had lost all he had, all he believed in. And now to try to be converted to something against his upbringing – mingling with Potter and his lowly friends? What would become of him? He was the only heir of the family – and now all he was, was helpless and weak.

Or, perhaps, he was the one at fault.

He stopped scratching for a while and thought about it with a sinking feeling. Perhaps, his father had been wrong – after all, all his hauteur had been a façade. The Death Eaters - they were not men of honour, but men of fear. And they had died, one by one, in the hands of one whom they had pledged their services and loyalty to.

Perhaps, his mother had been wrong. She taught him the beauty of a pure life – free from contaminations of mixed blood, especially if it was the blood of a Muggle. But right now, he felt more contaminated than ever before. The sins of murders made him shudder.

"Then, have I been wrong all this while?" he asked nobody, expecting nobody to answer. "Death. I've been told it is right for the right reasons. But was it right?

"Was it right for my father to die? Perhaps, since he killed so many. Mother? I don't know if it was right. I don't know anything. Perhaps we have all been so involved in our evil ways that our conscience doesn't even function anymore. I need to understand… I want to know why they were taken away…"

He stopped, feeling exceptionally childish. He was sure Harry didn't speak like that about his parents. Harry was strong, and Draco finally felt that he could admit that he admired the boy so much.

"Potter," he mumbled. "Potter probably has it so much harder on him. To never ever feel a mother's love, to never ever have a father to boast about him. He saw death before he could even comprehend it. And he saw it time and time again, and he still hasn't given up.

"To have the world depend on you to dispel the evil demons of their nightmares. And all at only… seventeen." Draco began to feel slightly better about himself. It was suffice to say he wasn't alone in his plight, yet it felt strange to share something with somebody he would have gladly killed just a few days before.

"Malfoy?" Harry came in, his hands full carrying bottles of Butterbeer and packs of food. He admired the priceless expression on Draco's face – it featured shock, grief yet a distinct slimmer of relief. "I'm back. Eat this."

Draco struggled to raise his hand towards the chocolate Harry held in his, but then weakly brought his hand up to his mouth to eat it. Harry noticed the scratch marks and touched Draco's hand worriedly.

"Don't touch me."

"I'm just trying to see…" Harry was cut short as Draco pulled his hand away indignantly. Hatred burned in his eyes for a second, then he looked away embarrassedly. How ungrateful he was, forgetting how much the boy had already done for him.

"Did you hear what I was saying just now?" Draco asked suddenly, remembering Harry's awkward entrance.

"I guess so. Just a bit."

"You were eavesdropping on me."

"Malfoy, I was at the door. You were talking aloud."

"You could have… gone away?" But Malfoy realized that fact was fact – Harry had heard his brief monologue.

"You know," Harry said, putting down the rest of the food and drink on the study table, "I'm not all that great."

"Never said you were."

"Right." Harry looked down at Draco with eyes that seemed to reflect the sorrow of the moment. For a minute, Draco thought Harry was actually crying, but dismissed it. "You feeling better?"

"No."

"Why don't you eat something? Or drink some Butterbeer?"

"I'll puke."

"Then just water." Harry poured a glass of water for Draco, then beckoned him to sit up. He helped Draco sit up, despite the painful yelps of restraint from Draco. Despite his usual defiant nature, he sipped with water slowly, savouring its taste. He felt at unease for a while, then realized it was because Harry was staring at him.

"What do you want?"

"It's strange, seeing you so sad."

Draco thought about what Harry said for a while, then sighed. The pain was finally setting in, and he realized how fragile he felt. He longed for someone to hold him, to reassure him that things would be alright.

"Harry…"

"It's alright, Malfoy." It was as if Harry knew what he was thinking, knew what he needed. As wrong as it felt, Draco threw his arms around Harry's neck and pulled him close. He shivered as Harry embraced him so gently.

Then his tears began to fall.


End file.
